Stealing A Consulting Detective's Heart
by TenToo
Summary: Molly Hooper is terrified of Moriarty's return. Ever since "Did you miss me?" flashed on her screen, she has had reoccurring nightmares of that very scene. One night, she rushed over to Sherlock's to get his comfort, but being a cold individual, he promptly blows her off. Yet, when she goes to leave, he pulls her back. What is going on with Sherlock Holmes; does he suddenly care?
1. Chapter 1

_"Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" "Did you miss me?" _

Molly Hooper woke with a start and stared at the off-white ceiling. She was in a cold sweat — Moriarty was back. The horrible, vile man who forced Sherlock to fake his death. He had shot himself through the head. How was he alive?

She slipped out of bed and dressed quickly. She checked her hair on the way out and caught a cab.

"Where to, ma'am?" The cabbie asked.

"221B Baker Street, please."

"Right away, ma'am."

It was a short cab ride to Sherlock's home and she was let in by a very sleepy Mrs. Hudson.

"Pardon the hour, Mrs. Hudson, but I need to talk to Sherlock." She said quickly, the words rushing out of her mouth.

"Of course, dear." She said, motioning for her to go upstairs. "He's only just returned from his meeting with Mycroft, the poor dear. He may be in bed already."

The thought of Sherlock Holmes asleep was very appealing to Molly but she shook the thought out of her head, thanked Mrs. Hudson, and marched up the stairs to Sherlock's flat.

She didn't bother with knocking and walked right in. He was standing in the sitting room, lightly plucking the strings of his violin as he bent over a sheet of music on the stand. She cleared her throat and he turned around. The look of surprise was evident on his face. He set down the instrument and walked halfway toward her then stopped for some reason.

"Molly, what brings you to Baker Street at this time of night?" He asked, crossing his arms behind his back.

She thought it over in her head but every reason that she came up with seemed too stupid to say to the great Sherlock Holmes. She replied, "I was scared."

Sherlock's face went blank. He had no response. He stood there awkwardly and yelled, "Mrs. Hudson, put the kettle on!"

Ten minutes later, Mrs. Hudson walked up in her nightgown bearing a tray with two cups of tea and a teapot. She set them down and whispered to Molly as Sherlock slumped down in his chair, "Kindly restrain him from calling me again." Molly nodded as the landlady left.

Sherlock leaned forward and picked up a cup of tea, he held it out for Molly, who took it, refraining from touching his hand. He picked up his own cup and drank half of it in one gulp. He said, "Now, Molly, what frightens you?"

"Jim Moriarty."

Sherlock just nodded. "Yes, he frightens all. The entire nation, to be precise. But, you don't see all of England turning up on my doorstep with tales of their nightmares. So, kindly let me know your troubles so I can feign listening and you can feel relieved that someone has shared in your horrors and leave so I can have a peaceful night of sleep." He gave her the most fake smile ever, one he reserved for clients he wished to leave. It was all teeth, no lips, and it certainly did not reach his eyes.

Molly wanted to slap him, a good, proper slap that would leave a mark. Her hand was itching to do it but she stopped herself. "How dare you make fun of me. I came here, hoping to find a friend, a friend who is directly related to the thing that frightens me the most, who would help me in forgetting this nightmare of a person so I could sleep too, but all this _friend_ seems to care about it going to bed! I wish I could fall asleep! But every time I shut my eyes, I see Jim Moriarty's face grinning at me and muttering, 'Did you miss me?' Do you have any idea how that feels? I dated him, for Christ's sake! Do you ever stop to thing about other people's feelings, Sherlock? You are the most selfish person on earth, I don't even know why I bothered to come."

She rose to leave and was halfway down the stairs before he managed to catch her hand and pull her back. He didn't say a word as he led her back into the sitting room. He turned to face her and she could see the faintest tear in the corner of his eye. _Sherlock Holmes crying?_ What a strange occurrence. She took a hesitant step toward him and reached up toward his face. Her hand landed lightly on his cheek and she wiped the tear from his eye with her thumb. She was about to pulled her hand back but he caught it with his own and returned it to his cheek. His hand rested on top of hers as he shut his eyes.

He whispered so quiet that she had to lean in to hear him. "I do understand how you feel, Molly. Please, I don't want you to leave. I'm certainly glad that you came." He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Stay, Molly Hooper, for me."

How could she say "no" to that?


	2. Chapter 2

They sat in silence for a good while, Sherlock in his chair and Molly in the one across. Sherlock's long fingers tapped on the arm of the chair in a steady rhythm. _Da-da-dum-dum. Da-da-dum-dum. _Molly stared at those fingers, wondering what else they could do. Her eyes widened as she was shocked she had thought such a thing. That movement didn't go unnoticed by her companion.

"What's on your mind, Molly Hooper?"

She would never tell him exactly what she was thinking, it was vulgar and embarrassing. She could feel a blush creeping on her cheeks and wanted to hide her face.

"I can read how you feel, Molly. It's quite obvious." Sherlock said, quietly. He now leaned forward, elbows on the rests, and chin resting on hands. He looked at her intently but she didn't shrink away. It was a look Sherlock gave people often when he needed them to listen to him. She was used to it and it barely registered to her anymore. Although, this time, it was different. It was like he would be in pain if she didn't hear him. He opened his mouth but didn't say anything. He shut it and a confused expressing set upon his face. He averted his eyes for a second before focusing on her again. He cleared his throat and said, "Molly, I've never really done this before. Well. Not for real…Um. You are the person I care for the most. You matter the most; I've said it before but I don't think you understood fully by what I meant by it." He paused and cleared his throat again. "I am…fond…of you." He gave her a look like he was unsure if he had said it right but he nodded once, satisfied with it.

It was almost like he had said that he loved her. She just stared at him and, honestly, didn't know what to say. She did however speak, finally. "You're fond of me?"

He nodded and spoke slowly, "Yes. I thought I made that quite clear. I am fond of you, Molly Hooper, I always have been."

"Then why wait until now to tell me?"

"I was gone for two years, if you remember. You moved on of course…"

She cut him off. "Oh, I _moved_ on? I have made it very clear from the start how I have felt about you Sherlock, you have chosen to ignore it all of this time. And then you faked your death and left me. Of course I moved on. Just because things didn't work out between Tom and I, doesn't mean that you get any right to mock me for it!"

Molly rose to leave but Sherlock was faster than her. He had his long fingers around her wrists in a matter of seconds, his body inches from hers as he whispered in her ear, "I didn't want to leave you, Molly, it was a matter of nation and global security, though in light of recent events, it didn't seem to matter since the leader of the organization I attempted to thwart has returned from the grave." He leaned back and looked her in the eye, his blue-green eyes looking sadder than she ever wanted to see them. "I didn't come back for London really, no. Not for Mycroft. Not for my parents. Not John nor Graham."

"Greg." She corrected.

"Not for Greg. Not even the bloody Queen. I came back for you."

His thumb ran over the back of her hand and she found herself a little choked up. She knew that if she tried to speak, she may sob for joy, so she did the only logical thing she could think of. She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips firmly to his. Sherlock was a little taken aback but embraced it after a few seconds. His hands tightened in hers and he found himself kissing her back. Her lips parted for him but when his tongue didn't slide in, she took the initiative. Her tongue met his and a soft moan escaped from Sherlock. Molly couldn't help but wonder if this was his first _real_ kiss. Those ones with Janine certainly didn't count, he hadn't been emotionally involved in them. This, this was different. Sherlock felt something for Molly, he wasn't sure how much he felt for her but he knew that that would be very clear soon.

Molly's hand had escaped his and disappeared into his curls. He was very particular about them and the fact that he let her touch them was a good sign of trust with him. She broke their kiss and said, "I'm glad I came here tonight. Thank you for helping me."

Sherlock smiled and said, "There's nothing to fear. I won't let anything happen to you, ever."

He claimed her lips again as he backed them toward his bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow guys! Thanks for all of the favorites! I never anticipated that Chapter 2 would bring that many new favorites. Feel free to leave me some reviews, and I do hope that you enjoy Chapter 3. This one feature much more MATURE CONTENT. You've been warned. Enjoy. XOXO. :)**

* * *

Molly fell on the bed and pushed herself up toward the pillows. Sherlock crawled on top of her, making her feel so vulnerable, yet she welcomed it. It was Sherlock. Her Sherlock. He was offering her something that he didn't offer many people; a glimpse into his carnal needs. He lowered himself onto her gently and his lips pressed against hers passionately.

He took his time kissing her, sliding his tongue into her mouth when his lips had had their fill of caressing every inch of her lips. His tongue explored her mouth as his hands roamed her body. He slid her shirt of quickly and she did the same with his, unbuttoning it with skill. Their clothes slowly formed a pile to the side of the bed until they were fully naked and Sherlock continued to explore her body with his hands as his mouth and tongue still needed more time with her mouth and tongue. His hands caressed her breasts and hers tangled in his hair as she moaned into his mouth. Her legs wrapped around his waist, trying to get closer to him. She could feel his hard length pressing against her leg but she knew that they were no where near that step yet; Sherlock wanted to fully kiss and touch every inch of her before he slid inside of her.

Sherlock's tongue left Molly's mouth and he began to kiss his way down her body: making his way down her neck to her chest; across her breasts; spending a lengthy amount of time on each nipple, sucking and biting and bruising here and there. Molly moaned and pulled on his curls, drawing a moan in turn from the famed detective. He leaned up and kissed her sloppily before returning to his ministrations. His hands roamed over her slim waist down to her thighs as his lips left her breasts and continued down her body, following the trail his hands had just made. They parted the path and went straight instead of veering either way to the thighs. He kissed her mound and she let out a gasp. He smiled up at her and spread her legs apart with his hands. He settled down between her thighs, placing them on his shoulders and circling his arms around them. He kept his eyes on her as he ran his tongue over her clit for the first time. Her hand flung to his hair and held on as he got comfortable and began to lick her with enthusiasm. He eventually moved south and slid his tongue inside, repeating the action until she was moaning every few seconds, yanking on his hair and panting his name. He returned his tongue to her clit much to her dismay but slid three fingers right into her pussy and began to pump them in a quick rhythm, making her moan his name. He could feel her start to clench up inside and smiled against her pussy as he continued to lick her vigorously. When she screamed his name, he felt her clench hard against his fingers before she released her juices. He pulled his fingers and sucked the juice off before sliding himself up her body. Before she could protest, he positioned his cock against her entrance and slid himself in.

Molly moaned and grabbed onto his strong shoulders, wrapping her legs around her waist as he gripped her hips. He began to pound into her, his lips claiming hers like they had many times before that night. He would never tire of kissing those lips. There was something about her that was just so _Molly_ that he felt intoxicated by her, he couldn't get enough; he was addicted and he didn't want to stop. He didn't need his cocaine anymore, not when he was with her. She could be his new drug.

Sherlock loved hearing her moan his name, he found himself speeding up to hear her say it more. She smiled at that and kissed his earlobe, whispering, "Slower, Sherlock, we have all night."

Sherlock shook his head and flipped her over onto her hands and knees. He leaned over her back, grabbing her ponytail, forcing her hair back, and whispering in her ear, "We'll go at my speed."

He was taking charge and she didn't mind one bit. It was the sexiest thing he had ever done. Aside from wearing that purple shirt, solving crimes that no one else could, sitting near her in the lab in utter silence without moving a muscle…really, everything he did was sexy. But this, this was something else. He was _dominating_ her. It was new and she found it very, very enticing.

Sherlock slammed into her again and began to pound at his own speed: fast. Ridiculously fast. His grip on her hips was that of death. She was panting and moaning and gripping the headboard for dear life. His name was on her lips as she came for the second time. Sherlock was on the verge of his own undoing and he was moaning loudly, bruising her hips with his grasp. He would have time to feel bad about that later. He rammed his body into her several times more before he collapsed onto her back, emptying himself into her.

He kissed her back lightly, tasting the saltiness of sweat and something that was entirely Molly. He pulled out of her and they rolled over next to each other on the bed. Molly's hand slid into Sherlock's and their fingers entwined. She looked at him and turned to face him on the bed. They didn't need to speak, they would have plenty of time for that later. Sherlock opened his arms for her. Molly slid over and cuddled against his chest, placing her palm on his abdomen. Sherlock's arms wrapped tightly around her body after pulling the comforter around them. Her head was in the crook of his neck. He rested his head on top of hers after kissing the top of hers softly. Slowly, the two of them drifted off to sleep, feeling safe for the first time in a long time.


	4. Chapter 4

Molly woke the following morning to the smell of freshly made tea, eggs, sausage, and toast. She slid out of the otherwise empty bed and dressed in what she had worn the previous day. She exited Sherlock's bedroom and found Sherlock at the table, seated across from Mycroft. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of the older Holmes brother but he didn't even look at her. She thought it safe to approach. She sat down and helped herself to some of the food on the table. Sherlock gave her a small smile before he returned to listening to Mycroft talk about the return of Moriarty.

"Lady Smallwood believes that you are the only one who can defeat Moriarty." Mycroft said, picking at a sausage.

Molly ate in silence as Sherlock responded, "And what do you think, brother dear?"

"I'm certain there are others but it would take too long to track them down. We'll have to settle with you." Mycroft replied, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands. He rested his chin on the top of his hands as he studied his brother over them. The love bites that lined his neck were obvious as was the light bruise forming near his collarbone. His lips were still puffy from a night of passionate kissing. And he looked too happy.

"Well I'm glad that someone has confidence in me." Sherlock said, giving his brother a sarcastic smile before returning to his breakfast. He focused on Molly and asked, "Sleep well?"

"Very. You?"

"Same."

Mycroft studied their exchange and scoffed, earning a look from each of them.

"Problem, Mikey?"

Mycroft ignored his brother's blatant use of their mother's favorite nickname for him and said, "What is this?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrow, "What is what? This is breakfast. Mrs. Hudson was lovely enough to make us this. You should do more to be nice to her, Mike."

"Enough about the maid, Sherlock." His brother opened his mouth to chastise Mycroft but the elder brother continued, "You and Ms. Hooper. What is going on? She came out of your bedroom."

"Oh, Mycroft. I thought you would be able to deduce this. I've found myself a…goldfish."

Mycroft closed his eyes in disbelief and mumbled something about never imagining his brother ever being with someone.

"I suggest you find a goldfish of your own." Sherlock continued. "They're quite enjoyable."

"I can tell from your marks, Sherlock. You should do well to cover them up before people start to talk." Mycroft said, rising to leave.

"Going so soon, brother mine?" Sherlock asked, pleased to see his brother tucking in the chair and grabbing his umbrella.

"I have matters to discuss with those much more important than you. I'll be in touch." He made to leave but turned back around. "Just one more thing, brother mine, do well and remember, caring is not an advantage." The elder Holmes brother said, letting his gaze drift over Molly before he turned on his heel and departed 221B.

Molly looked down at her plate of relatively untouched food, fighting the tears. For some reason, Mycroft always rubbed her the wrong way and he seemed to truly dislike her. He didn't want his brother to be with her and even though Sherlock said that he never listened to his brother, she knew that he valued his opinions. A hand on her chin made her look at him. Sherlock ran his long thumb over her jaw.

"What are you thinking, Molly?"

She looked anywhere but him. "Mycroft hates me."

"More of dislike, rather than hate. Mycroft is a cold individual, he places value in business and solitude. Friendship and relationships are beneath him. He finds them weaknesses. He's weak, Molly. Pay him no mind."

That made her feel a little better and the smile he gave her improved her mood drastically.

Molly and Sherlock ate their breakfast and sipped coffee while talking about the news, everything except Moriarty's return. She rose and he looked disappointed. She leaned down and kissed him tenderly. "I have to go to work."

"But it's barely 7:30." He said, bitterly.

"I have to stop off at my apartment first, Sherlock." She said, smiling at him. "I can't go in in the same clothes I wore yesterday."

He nodded and said, "Of course. Would you like to go to lunch? Perhaps that fish shop off Marylebone Road? The one that give me extra portions?"

Molly smiled. "It's a date."


	5. Chapter 5

**Explicit content. Rape. Don't read if you're uncomfortable with that. **

Molly walked into the morgue and got right to work. Two bodies to be autopsied. It took up the better part of her morning and she didn't make it to the lab until near lunchtime. She sat down at her microscope and got to work analyzing some slides for the hospital. It had been a busy day in the emergency room and their main lab had been backed up for hours upon hours. Her boss had dropped the slides off for her to help out. It had been a long time since she had analyzed a cancerous slide of a living patient who would receive the news shortly.

She looked away from the slide, trying not to get emotional. She sucked it up and pulled the slide out and put in a new one. This is why she worked with the dead, it didn't matter if they had cancer — they were already dead, it couldn't kill them now. She had to take a deep breath before examining the next one, thankful it was just gonorrhea.

Molly continued examining slides until the door opened. She looked up, expecting Sherlock but her eyes were met with a complete stranger. He was tall with blond hair that was tucked under a plain black ski cap. He was clad in a leather jacket and dark red shirt, black jeans, and black shoes. His eyes were very dark, almost black in color. He walked toward her without uttering a word.

Molly stuttered, "C-c-can I he-help you?"

He continued in his silence but he flicked out a knife from his pocket as he approached. Molly's eyes widened as all of her muscles tensed and she froze.

Finally, he spoke. "Molly Hooper, Jim from IT sends his regards."

He lunged for her, thrusting his knife at her. Molly's body reacted on instinct. She dodged him and opened the drawer closest to her. She pulled out one of the things in it; a scalpel. The man recovered from his failed attempt and made another. Molly attempted her own blow but his knife collided with her scalpel, knocking it out of her hand. She grabbed another from the drawer and managed to slice his arm. He growled in pain and grabbed her arm, pulling her against him. His hand circled her throat and next thing she knew they were both on the ground, he was on top of her, his knife pressed against her throat.

"Anything to say to Moriarty? He truly misses you. He said you were a good _fuck_."

Molly closed her eyes in shame and tightened her grip around the scalpel. He had her hand pinned down, she couldn't move it at all.

The man leaned down and ran his hand down her body. "Mmmm…You know, I could fuck you right now. See if Moriarty was lying or not. You know, I think I will."

He yanked up her skirt and undid his pants. He tore her underwear off and tossed it aside. He pulled himself out of his pants and pressed the knife farther against her neck. "Don't make a sound." He roughly shoved into her but it didn't last long. He had let go of her arms and she plunged the scalpel deep into his neck. He let out a loud scream and she shoved him off of her. She scrambled away into the corner, sitting with her knees against her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them.

"Molly!" She jumped and saw Sherlock running to her at a speed she didn't think possible. He placed his hands on her shoulders but she flinched away. She was shaking, the scalpel in her hand. She was clutching it so hard it was cutting into her palm. Sherlock grabbed her hand and pried it open, her fingers providing quite the fight. Once it was free from her flesh, he tossed it aside and examined her palm. The cut wasn't as deep as he thought it had been. He went to the cabinet and got bandages. He worked in silence and soon her hand was bandaged up. Sherlock asked, "What happened, Molly?"

He glanced at the body several feet away, the blood pooling around the neck. He could see where the scalpel had gone in at the carotid artery. He had died quickly. _Pity_. What Sherlock would have done to the man would have been slow and torturous. "We have to go." He grabbed her hand but she said, "_Don't touch me_!" She yanked her hand out of his. Sherlock took a step back, looking from her to the body, deducing what had happened. He shook his head, the rage boiling inside of him. He whipped out his phone and dialed a number.

"Lestrade. Come to the lab. We have a situation. Dead body. And I need help with Molly;" he spoke quietly into the phone so she couldn't hear him, "The man raped her."


	6. Chapter 6

Sherlock stood a good distance from Molly as he waited for the others to arrive. She remained sitting with her arms wrapped around her legs, staring off into space. Finally, reinforcements arrived. First it was Lestrade and Donovan. Less than a minute later came Mary and John. All four gaped at the body. The pool of blood was rather large now, hitting both of the two lab benches it was between. John bent down to examine the body, grabbing a pair of gloves as he did. Mary and Sally Donovan walked toward Molly. She didn't cringe away from them as she had with Sherlock. They pulled her up and took her out of the room, Mary grabbed John's hand on their way out, effectively leaving Lestrade and Sherlock alone with the body.

"Do you know what happened, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked, crouching down and examining the body.

Sherlock shook his head. "Not really. I came in after the ordeal. He was already dead, sadly."

Lestrade looked up at him. "What do you mean 'sadly?'"

"I certainly wouldn't have killed him so quickly."

Lestrade looked away, back to the body. "You would have made him suffer?"

"Obviously."

Lestrade just nodded. "After what he did to our Molly, I think we all would."

_Our Molly. _Lestrade had said, _Our Molly. No_, she's _mine_, Sherlock thought. He made sure none of his rage showed on his face as he crouched down next to Lestrade. He motioned along the slice in the man's neck with two gloved fingers. "Obvious quick jab to the jugular. One time hit. He died very quickly — bled out in minutes."

"Molly did quite a number on him." Lestrade commented, smiling.

"She didn't do it by choice." Sherlock said, defensively.

"I know that." Lestrade said, standing. A hush fell over the two men, Sherlock continued to examine the body while Lestrade looked on. Sherlock did this for another few minutes before standing and looking at Lestrade.

"I'm done here. Where's Molly?" Sherlock asked, removing his gloves.

"John's examining her. Sally's getting her statement."

"Can we go join them?"

"No."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "Why not?"

Lestrade raised his hands defensively. "We have to wait for someone to take the body to the morgue."

"Why is John examining her? Isn't she frightened of him as she was of me?"

"I'm sure Mary and Sally will have calmed her down first."

They didn't have long to wait. The body was removed and the blood cleaned up. Lestrade and Sherlock joined Sergeant Donovan outside of the room where Molly was. They sat down with her and waited.

"She gave her statement. She had every right to kill that man." Donovan said in conversation.

"Does she know who sent him?" Lestrade asked.

Sherlock scoffed. "Moriarty, of course. Who else could it be?"

"It was Moriarty. The murderer was very clear about that." Donovan said. "One thing's certain, boys, she can't be alone. There's been one attempt on her life, there will be more."

"What are you suggesting?" Lestrade asked.

"That she moves in with one of you lot."

"It does seem fair. She shouldn't be alone, not when there are trained assassins after her."

Sherlock just nodded as the door opened and out came Mary, John, Molly, and… "Mycroft."

"Brother mine."

"What brings you here?"

"A situation regarding Moriarty and you hadn't thought to ring me at once? My, brother, you are slipping. Luckily, Dr. Watson had brains enough."

"I didn't see you go in…" Donovan said.

"More than one entrance, dear Sergeant." Mycroft said, leaning on his umbrella. "Now, Ms. Hooper has told me her story and we cannot have her on her own. She'll have to move in with one of you until the danger has passed."

"Just as I said."

"Great minds think alike, Sergeant." Mycroft said, smiling smugly. He really didn't care for Donovan, that much was obvious. He was just humoring her. "Now, who gets the lucky task of taking care of our lovely Ms. Hooper here?"

"She can move in with Mary and I." John said, looking at Mary, who nodded eagerly.

"And what, sleep on the couch?" Mycroft scoffed. "Tut, tut. Surely we can do better than that. Isn't she a dear friend?"

Lestrade said, "I've got a spare. Who's better to protect her than a Detective Inspector of Scotland Yard?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You can barely take care of yourself, Graham. I've got a spare bedroom as well. Molly will stay with me." He looked at her, the first person to actually acknowledge she was in the room with them. "If that's alright with you." She nodded, looking at the ground.

"It's settled then." Mycroft said, nodding. He looked at Molly and continued, "Let us go fetch your things from your flat."


End file.
